


the course of true love never did run smooth

by vegashoods



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, TW: suicidal thoughts, angsty, it's brief but it's there, mention of suicide, pynch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-08 06:41:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13452660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegashoods/pseuds/vegashoods
Summary: Ronan wants Adam to move in, but Adam refuses. They fight, Adam leaves, and Ronan is left to pick up all the pieces.(or: I'm terrible at summaries so this is very angsty but it has a happy ending)





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Before we start, I need to clarify a couple things:  
> 1\. I tampered with the timeline a little bit. It just helped me lay out my thoughts better and I honestly don't think it changes very much, so bear with me.  
> 2\. Blue and Gansey can kiss. I'm selfish and want them to be super happy and cute. It WILL NOT be a major part of this story, but just know that I'm aware that I changed it.  
> Other than that, enjoy and let me know your thoughts in the comments! :)  
> (Title is from Shakespeare, because I am a massive nerd and I love it)

Ronan woke up to freezing feet and a disgusting taste in his mouth.

He peeled his eyes open, squinting against the sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window--he knew they should have stayed at the Barns, where the window was on the opposite side of the room and the sunrise wasn’t blinding--and sighed as he rolled over to check his alarm clock. 6:30. He grimaced, trying to make his peace with the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep. Once awake, falling back asleep proved to be almost impossible,  even if it was 6:30 on a Saturday morning.

Sitting up, he discovered that a good half of the covers were missing from his side of the bed, but since he already knew the reason why, it didn’t bother him if his feet were a little cold. Adam snored peacefully on the other side of the bed, undisturbed by Ronan’s movement, eyes moving back and forth beneath his eyelids in the motion of a dreamer. He slept lightly, and the slightest noise was usually enough to wake him, but he’d grown accustomed to sleeping in Ronan’s bed over the years, and with time and practice, he’d learned to sleep through almost anything Ronan threw at him, even the strange and sometimes dangerous things he brought back from dreams in the middle of the night.

Ronan smiled as he admired Adam for a few moments. When he slept, it was impossible to tell that he was damaged, that he held scars from childhood beatings and his left ear didn’t work and sometimes he woke up screaming, just like Ronan did, but for a different reason. In sleep, he was simple and beautiful but still the Adam that Ronan loved, and he thought his heart might burst with amazement at how lucky he was.

After tracing patterns in the air next to Adam--he didn’t touch him, for fear of waking him up--Ronan climbed out of bed, desperate to locate his toothbrush and clean away the taste that had built up in his mouth overnight. This normally didn’t happen, since Ronan normally didn’t get a full night of sleep, but with Adam around, it was easier. He didn’t dream as much when he was next to him.

In the kitchen/bathroom/laundry, Ronan faced his reflection in the tiny, smeared mirror hanging above the rust-tinged sink. He looked happier, he thought, some of the worry lines erased from his forehead and his natural frown replaced with a look of overall content. His short haircut and overly intense eyes thrown onto a tall, muscular frame still made him intimidating to anyone who didn’t know him, but though he would never admit it, he enjoyed the fact that Adam had made him a little softer.

Snapping himself out of his thoughts, Ronan picked up his toothbrush and started the deep-cleaning ritual he reserved for mornings like these. Mornings when Adam stayed the night and he didn’t know how the rest of the day would play out. The last thing he wanted was morning breath to ruin the mood if things heated up, as they often did. As he brushed, he decided that the bathroom needed a clean. Grime had formed in the sink, he could hardly see his reflection in the mirror, and the toothbrush holder sat askew and disorganized, bristles dangerously close to touching. It was bound to happen, he supposed, with four brushes in it; his and Gansey’s, plus Blue’s from when she had moved in a month prior, plus--

Adam’s.

Ronan sighed as he spit into the sink and wandered to the table, where he plopped heavily into one of the chairs and closed his eyes. As hard as he tried not to let it bother him, the fact that Adam refused to move in with him at Monmouth hurt more than he would ever admit. For Ronan, it had been the natural next step in their relationship; he’d asked him after six months of dating, even knowing how it had gone the last time and not caring. It would be different, he told himself. Adam would understand that it wasn’t about money.

But Adam had said no, repeatedly and with great emphasis, leaving Ronan out of spirits and slightly irritated. He’d let it drop until the one year mark, and when he got shut down again, he stopped asking. But after two years of commitment, of not-too-many fights and more love than he knew what to do with, maybe it was time to try again. Their relationship had only strengthened since then, he reasoned, and two years as adults seemed like a very long time to live apart when they stayed at one or the other’s place nearly every night.

Courage and determination renewed, Ronan made his way back to his bedroom, where he found Adam already awake, perched on the edge of the bed, examining his hands. He had beautiful hands, Ronan thought, rough and calloused and scarred from the life he’d been forced into, but lovely in a tough kind of way. Everything about Adam was lovely and fierce, and it was one of the reasons why Ronan felt like he might die if they were ever separated from each other.

Ronan rapped his knuckles against the doorway to announce his presence and smiled when Adam looked up at him, sleep-mussed hair and eyes still glazed making his heart squeeze with affection. “Good morning,” Ronan said, folding himself onto the bed next to Adam. “Sleep okay?”

Adam nodded, disorientation and tiredness already disappearing from his expression. He was accustomed to waking up quickly and with short notice, and though Ronan hated the reason for it, it made it easier to start the dreaded conversation. “Perfect,” he said, and Ronan beamed. Adam’s happiness made him a better person. “You?”

“Perfect,” Ronan said, and Adam smiled his tiny smile that held more joy than Ronan thought was possible. “Hey, I, uh . . . I wanna talk to you about something.”

Adam shifted on the bed to face Ronan head-on, yawning and stretching his arms above his head unselfconsciously. “Okay. What is it?”

“Well, I . . .” Ronan paused, trying to think of a way to breach the topic that wouldn’t upset Adam instantly. “Your toothbrush is in the bathroom.”

Adam made a face, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “It’s been there for a while, Ronan. Did you accidentally use it again? Because we’ve already had this discussion. Like, your tongue’s been in my mouth, so does it _really_ matter if we use the same toothbrush? I know--”

“No, it’s not that,” said Ronan, harsher than he meant to be. Adam fell silent and sat back, one eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation. Ronan sighed and continued, already sensing that this wouldn’t end well but unwilling to give up before he even began. “I . . . I want you to move in.”

The words hung in the air, dangerous, like icicles just ready to fall, and Adam sighed, and turned his face away, and Ronan’s heart dropped. “You know I can’t say yes,” he said, voice quiet and lips drawn into a thin line. The atmosphere of the room had shifted dramatically; the light, joking happiness had soured to become cold and tense, and Ronan hated it. “Jesus, Ronan. I thought I asked you to stop bringing this up.”

“I don’t want to stop bringing it up,” Ronan protested, knowing he sounded like a petulant child but unable to stop it. “Maybe I understood a year ago, if you didn’t know where this was going, or whatever, but now? It’s pretty clear to me that you and I are gonna stick this out, and it sucks that you won’t even _consider_ moving in with me. I thought you would understand how much it means to me.”

“I _do_ ,” said Adam, raking a hand through his hair and still not making eye contact, “but I can’t in good conscience move in here, living rent-free and taking up all of you and Gansey’s space.”

“Why not?” Ronan demanded. “Blue lives here. She takes up at least a little bit of my space, and Gansey never asked me before she moved in, but you don’t see me complaining. And besides, Adam, _none_ of us pay rent. Gansey’s the landlord, remember?”

Adam closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his temples like Ronan was just too much to bear. It was a Gansey-like expression, the kind he used when he was being an asshole but didn’t know it, and Ronan felt the familiar heat of rage starting beneath his skin. “My apartment is closer to school,” said Adam. “And work. Which I actually have to get to--”

“I know you don’t work today, so you can cut the shit excuses. You spend the night here all the time and still make it to school, Adam. We don’t live hours away from each other. God, you’re here so much you might as well just make it official! I don’t get why this is such a big deal for you.”

“Well, of course you don’t,” Adam snapped, standing to pace around the room. Ronan felt a sick sense of satisfaction, that he was making Adam react like this; even if they were fighting, at least it meant that Ronan had an impact on his life. At least it meant that he meant something. “You have _everything_ , Ronan. You always have. You’ve never had to earn anything for yourself, and you live in this fucked-up, imaginary world where you just get what you want with no consequences! Some of us actually _work_ for a living, you know! I’ve supported myself for _years_ , and I’m not about to start living in your sympathy just because it hurts your feelings that we’ve been dating for two years and I don’t live in the same place as you! I thought we could tough this out together without spending every minute of every day with each other, but I guess you’re just too selfish for that.”

Ronan scoffed, truly angry, knowing full well he was about to say something he would regret later but unable to care. “You always preach about how you don’t want my pity,” he snarled, voice low and raw and real, “but it’s hard to treat you like an equal when you make yourself into such a fucking charity case.”

Adam froze, breath hitching in his chest, and Ronan knew that for the first time, he had pushed it too far. Of all the things Ronan had ever said to him, of every angry insult, of every fight they had ever been in, this was the worst. Some expression that Ronan wasn’t familiar with--a mixture of agony, and pain, and anger, and sadness, and maybe confusion--painted Adam’s face, and Ronan wanted more than anything else to make it go away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, hands shaking with not-quite-released anger and fear. “Adam, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it--”

“Oh, save it,” Adam spat, and he finally made eye contact, and Ronan swore he could feel his heart breaking. Tears stood out in his eyes, real, sorrowful tears that tore at every piece of Ronan, and he knew he’d put them there, and in that moment he wanted to drive his car out into the highway and crash it and pray that he died, because he deserved it for hurting Adam. “You--you’re the only person I thought understood me. You were the only one who would never say that to me.”

“You know I lose it sometimes,” Ronan insisted, tears forming in his own eyes as he saw-- _really_ saw, for the first time--the mess his self-centered thoughts and actions had created. “You know I don’t lie, and you know I would never say that and mean it. Adam, I swear to you-

“You don’t mean it anymore, but you meant it when you said it,” said Adam, and he stalked out of the bedroom. Ronan trailed behind, helpless and muttering more desperate apologies, each stumbling over the next as Adam snatched up his jacket and shoes and pulled them on, still on the verge of crying but not allowing any tears to fall. He was the strongest person Ronan knew, which made him strong enough to do anything. Maybe this was the day he would finally realize that he didn’t need Ronan, that he was better off without him.

After what felt like years, Adam straightened up, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, his expression was clear except for one conflicted knot between his eyebrows. “I think we need a break,” he said quietly.

Ronan’s stomach dropped to his feet and he staggered backwards, barely catching himself on a chair, as an unguarded tear streaked down his face. He’d brought this upon himself, in hindsight, but he couldn’t dwell too much on that when all he was thinking was _stay stay stay_ and he felt like half of his heart was ripping itself out of his chest. “What?”

“I can’t . . . be around you right now,” Adam said, and his voice was getting quieter, less sure, but he meant it anyway. Ronan thought this might be what dying felt like. “I think we both need some time to think this through. I can’t be with you when I feel like this, like I’m just another one of your dream things and you’re going to throw a fit if I don’t do what you want. You don’t control me, Ronan. I thought you respected my past, and you respected my choices, but . . . I guess I was wrong about that.” He reached for the doorknob, then turned back one last time, swallowed hard, and looked straight at Ronan. “Don’t get in touch with me for a while. I . . . I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

“Adam, wait, please, _fuck--_ ” Ronan begged, voice cracking and pathetic and weak, but it didn’t matter.

Adam was gone.


	2. two

Two hours later, Ronan still didn’t know where Adam was.

Mind reeling and the sound of the door slamming still echoing in his ears, Ronan couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He kept expecting him to come back, to reappear in the doorway, coat in hand and smile on his face and say  _ I would never leave you, silly _ , but it didn’t happen. For what felt like an eternity, Ronan sat at the kitchen table and watched the door and waited, rehearsing what he would say when he got the chance to make amends with Adam. He’d broken him, after five years of wearing at him, and now he was gone and Ronan was left as the fucked-up mess waiting by the phone. 

Silence filled the room, thick and suffocating like humid air on an unbearable summer day. Ronan was so unaccustomed to it that it almost scared him; even alone, noise filled his life, whether it be his music, cursing at inanimate objects, or the sound of his car shifting, faster and faster until he couldn’t make it work any harder and his thoughts were drowned out. Even as a child, complete silence had never had a place in his life. Declan liked to yell, Matthew liked to join in-- more out of solidarity than anything else--and with a dreamer for a father, Ronan grew up with an assortment of unimaginable, unreal clicks and whistles. He never fell asleep without Latin church hymns or the Murder Squash song playing, and wind whistling through the trees around the Barns as cows lowed in the fields made up the soundtrack to his younger days. 

Now, the only sound was his ragged breathing. He didn’t know when or if Adam was coming back, if what he’d said was irreparable or if he could still salvage their relationship. The things he’d said to Adam rushed back to the front of his mind in a dizzying surge that made him sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t take them back, and the worst part was that Adam was right. Ronan didn’t lie, and as horrible as he felt about what he’d said, a part of him  _ had _ meant it.

And now Ronan was alone, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

As if some higher power had been listening in on his thoughts, Ronan heard thudding footsteps on the stairs and shuffling outside the door, and he sighed in relief. Being alone held a lot more danger for Ronan than it used to, and though he would never admit it, his mind rested a lot easier when he had company. He stood and made his way toward the door, mind racing with potential apologies and ways to make Adam stay this time, just  _ stay _ so Ronan wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore, like half of him was missing and he’d done the damage to himself. 

The door slammed open, and Gansey walked in backwards.

Attached to him was Blue, arms looped around his neck and lips suctioning to his, and neither of them noticed Ronan as they stumbled inside, a mess of tangled limbs and frenzied breaths. They were home early--yesterday was Blue’s birthday, and every year Gansey rented them a hotel suite to stay in, which was both sweet and a bit extravagant--and they normally weren’t home until the late evening of the next day. 

It only figured that this year would be the year they cut it short. 

Ronan had a distinct feeling of half embarrassment, half irritation--they weren’t Adam, and so Ronan was angry at them--and he cleared his throat to try to gain their attention. Gansey paused for a second, but it was only to catch his breath, and then he and Blue advanced toward his bed in the middle of the room, which Ronan was not going to stand for. 

“Hey,” he said, voice raw and quiet from yelling at Adam and then promptly not using it for two hours. Gansey sat down on the bed and pulled Blue closer to him until she was straddling his lap. Ronan’s stomach flipped over itself and tied into an impossible knot. “ _Hey_. What the fuck are you doing?”  
  
Immediately, Blue and Gansey sprang apart, Blue’s hand flying up to cover her mouth. She made eye contact with Ronan for a brief second and then broke it, cheeks flushing red as she climbed off of Gansey, who reached for a pillow to take her place. Blue moved to the opposite end of the bed and folded her hands in her lap, refusing to look up. “We thought you weren’t home,” said Gansey, unapologetic but still mildly embarrassed. “We saw Adam’s car pass us on the way here, and since you’re usually with him⸺”

“Well, don’t assume stuff like that, jackass,” Ronan said, numbness replaced with anger, pouring through his veins like fire. “Just because you see  _ his _ car doesn’t mean you can barge in here sucking face. This is my apartment, too.”

Pause. 

“I’m sorry,” Gansey said, voice careful, “but I’ve already explained myself to you. Now do you want to tell us why you’re so irritated? You were fine before we left last night.”

“Yeah, well, that was before you left me alone with Adam.”

Gansey’s face dropped, the polished expression of a politician’s son replaced with understanding and something that looked a lot like pity. Ronan thought he finally knew why Adam was so sensitive about sympathy, even when it was well-intentioned. “Oh,” said Gansey. “Did you two . . . fight?” He had the decency to leave the  _ again _ off the end of his question, but Ronan heard it regardless. 

“You could say that.” Ronan scoffed and scrubbed a hand over his short, spiky hair as he wandered to the kitchen/bathroom/laundry and threw himself down in one of the few chairs in the apartment. “I asked him to move in again.”

Gansey sighed through his nose and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, pinching the bridge of his nose in unaware condescension. “Jesus, Ronan,” he said. “How many times have you had that discussion with him? It never ends well. You know he gets . . . touchy about money, and asking him to live here makes him feel like shit when he already has a perfectly good place to live.”

“Well, it makes  _ me _ feel like shit when it feels like he doesn’t love me enough to take the next step.” The words spilled out of Ronan’s mouth before he could think about them, but he knew they were true. He wasn’t angry that Adam had his issues with any money that wasn’t his, though he didn’t entirely understand it. He was hurt that, after two years of growing together, getting more and more serious about each other, Adam still refused to even consider living with Ronan. Every time they fought about money, and how Adam wouldn’t live in a place he couldn’t afford to pay for, it became more and more confusing for Ronan. What was his was Adam’s, but no matter how many different ways he tried to say that, they remained on different sides of town, only seeing each other in the spare seconds Adam had between classes or shifts at work. As much as he tried to pretend it didn’t affect him, he couldn’t deny that it made things difficult at best and seemingly impossible the rest of the time. 

Gansey said, “Ronan,” and he stood up like he was going to approach him and then thought better of it, dropping back down on the bed and looking generally pitying and uncomfortable. “I know it’s hard.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“Ronan,” Gansey said again, voice stern but eyes kind. “Adam loves you. Anybody can see that. He’s just . . . cautious. You know that better than anyone. He’s not trying to hurt you, I promise, and he’ll come back eventually. You might have to wait him out for a while, but isn’t it worth it? I mean, no one ever said true love was easy--”

“Honey, I love you to death, but please shut up,” said Blue, spreading her tiny hand across the back of Gansey’s. She would have seemed childlike if Ronan didn’t know what she was capable of and if he wasn’t staring directly into her fiercely burning eyes. “Lynch, you gotta grow a pair and talk this out.”

“Excuse me?” Ronan sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, not used to his masculinity being threatened. But if anyone was going to threaten it, he supposed it would be Blue. “I didn’t ask for your advice, Sargent.”

“Well, you ruined the end of my birthday with your moping, so you’re gonna get it,” she fired back, cool and collected and oh-so-right. He was moping, even if it was for good reason. Blue really was infuriating sometimes. “Talk to Adam. Fix it. Sitting around waiting by the phone never did anyone any good, especially when it comes to relationships. You need to take action.”

Ronan sighed and leaned forward, closing his eyes to cut out unnecessary distractions. “He won’t want to listen to me,” he said. “We got into it pretty bad. I said some things . . . hell, I’d be surprised if he ever talks to me again.”

“I don’t care what you said,” Blue replied, crossing her ankles and trying, unsuccessfully, to shift on the bed so her feet touched the floor. “It happened, and you can’t take it back, and since you’re both full grown adults that care about each other very much, one rough fight shouldn’t be enough to break you. I’ve seen the way you look at him, Ronan. Like he was the only person ever created that ever meant anything, like he hung the stars. He looks at you the same way.”

“Is that true?” It was a vulnerable question, but it was hard to believe, and he needed to know.

“ _ Yes _ . He has literally told me that you’re, like, some kind of king or god in his eyes.”

“He said that? When? Does he really think--”

“Oh, my God, get  _ out _ of here, Ronan. Go talk to him, please, before I lose my mind over you two.”

Ronan inhaled, counted to three, and exhaled. He could do this. He had to.

“Okay,” he said, and stood to start pulling on his boots. As he reached for the door, he turned back one last time, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth despite the gravity of the situation. “Hey, Sargent?”

Blue, who had been not-so-subtly scooting closer to Gansey for the past three minutes and was almost on top of him again, raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Thank me later,” she said. 

“Okay.” He turned away, then looked back over his shoulder. “Hey, uh, happy birthday, by the way.”

“ _ Ronan _ .”

“Right.” Squaring his shoulders and organizing his thoughts--a jumbled mess of  _ Adam, Adam, Adam _ \--Ronan opened the door and started praying that he wasn’t too late.


	3. three

Standing in the parking lot outside Adam’s apartment, chilled to the bone and ears ringing from the too-loud music he’d played in the car, Ronan thought that he’d never been as scared as he was in that moment.

In his lifetime, a great many things had scared him. Images of his father’s dead body, exploding white Mitsubishis, night horrors and the sharp edge of Colin Greenmantle’s smile and Gansey, dead, flashed through his mind, but none of it had ever made him feel like this. There wasn’t a word for it, for this feeling like his heart was paralyzed, dormant, waiting for someone to revive it. Like he would never be happy again so long as things with Adam stayed unresolved. 

He had to face him.

He didn’t want to.

Yes, he did.

Shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking, Ronan made his careful way up the rickety metal stairs that led to Adam’s apartment. Icy numbness--emotional or physical, he wasn’t sure--reached for his fingers and heart, but he pushed it away, as violent as the slamming of a door.

He’d been to Adam’s apartment before, though they spent the majority of their time together at Monmouth or the Barns, and so the place was familiar to him, but only vaguely. It was a hotel he’d spent the night in a few times, ignoring the leaking faucet in the bathroom and the cracking walls in the miniscule kitchen because there was a bed, and there was Adam, and there was  _ Adam _ , and that was all that mattered. This thought was enough to make him pull open the screen door to get to the more solid one behind it and knock once, twice, just enough to announce his presence. 

The longest thirty seconds of Ronan’s life ticked by in slow-motion. He checked his watch to make sure it hadn’t been ten minutes, or an hour, or a year since he’d knocked. The temperature outside was dropping, birds and insects going silent for the night, and once again, Ronan was left in uncomfortable silence. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, more to distract himself than to keep warm, desperate for something to  _ do-- _

The door swung open.

Adam, fresh from a shower, stood on the other side of it, fair hair tinted darker with dampness, normally grimy hands scrubbed clean. Eyes stripped of emotion regarded Ronan in a haunted, empty way, the corners of his mouth pinched down into a half-frown. It had seemed easy for Ronan to formulate apologies in his head, on his way there, but now, standing in front of him, they all seemed shallow, unsubstantial, ineffective. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, because it seemed like a good place to start.

Adam shut the door in his face.

“Adam, please,” he said, not raising his voice, not pounding on the door, because those were things that Ronan did when he was angry. He couldn’t afford to be angry. “Just hear me out. I know I don’t deserve a chance to explain myself, but if I don’t, I feel like I might die. I can’t stand the thought of you being mad at me.”

The door creaked open once again, the flimsy screen that Ronan had let fall closed the only thing separating them. “I told you not to talk to me right now,” Adam said.

“I know.” Ronan took a steadying breath and fought to let his emotions show on his face, though every instinct he had was telling him to bury them under a nonchalant facade. It was easier that way, but he didn’t want it to be easy, he wanted it to be real. That was all he ever wanted, when it came to Adam. “But I’m losing my mind, here. I need to talk to you before I go all batshit crazy. I need to explain why I’ve been such a dick about everything. I just . . . I want you to understand before you decide to shut me out.”

Adam sighed and closed his eyes, then opened them again to make intense, meaningful eye contact. “Fine,” he said, reaching to press open the screen door. “You have five minutes.”

It wasn’t long enough, but Ronan would take it. He stepped inside feeling foolish and vulnerable and brave, drumming his fingers against his thigh to release the nervous energy building behind his ribcage. Adam stretched his arms above his head as he moved to the dingy, retro couch, complete with swirling red-on-yellow patterns and exposed stuffing, that made up a semblance of a living room. Ronan trailed behind in a bit of a daze, his thoughts tangled and stumbling over each other in an attempt to gain dominance in his mind. Adam sat straight up on the couch. Ronan stood facing him. They each took a long, deep breath.

“So I fucked up pretty bad this time,” Ronan began.

Adam quirked a pale eyebrow. “This isn’t exactly the apology I was expecting.”

Frustrated, Ronan sighed and scratched at his nearly nonexistent hair. “I really suck at this kind of stuff. You know that. And that’s not an excuse for the way I acted this morning, because it wasn’t excusable, and I’m aware of that. I’ve been thinking all day about the perfect apology. Some way to make you . . . to make you stay.”

Adam started, surprised, leaning forward on his seat with his mouth slightly open. “Ronan⸺”

“Just let me finish,” Ronan said, hand extended in front of him like a pathetic stop sign. “Please.”

A beat passed, and then Adam leaned back again, nodding. “Okay.”

Ronan released a tense breath and shook out his hands, trying to force himself to relax. “Okay,” he said. “So, I was thinking about this perfect apology, but there isn’t one. The reason I couldn’t find the right words is because I was looking in the wrong place, because . . . God, I’m not making any sense. What I’m trying to say is that I can’t think of the right apology because there aren’t any words about regret or loneliness or sadness that can express what I feel like right now. So instead, I started thinking about other ways to make it up to you.”

“Where are you going with this?” Adam asked. He had gone very still, eyes burning and intelligent and  _ awake _ , his expression matching what Ronan felt pouring through his veins.

“I want to ask you something,” Ronan said. “I’m scared to ask you, and it’s really not an ideal circumstance right now, but I don’t actually know what the ideal circumstance is, so tonight’s gonna have to be good enough.”

Adam twisted his hands around each other, over and over, the way he only did when he was nervous or he knew something and he was holding back. Maybe it was both. “I have something to tell you, actually,” he said. 

Not the answer Ronan had been expecting, he had already opened his mouth to ask the question, and he stood there frozen like that for five seconds before he snapped himself back to the present. “What?”

“I have to tell you something,” Adam repeated, standing and coming closer to Ronan, until they were a step or an arm’s reach or a heartbeat away. “And I’m kinda scared, too.”

“So say it,” Ronan said. There was challenge in his voice, but vulnerability, too, and his eyes betrayed how he was really feeling, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. 

“I thought you had to ask me a question,” Adam fired back.

“I do, but you interrupted my flow, and now I just wanna know what you have to tell me.”

“Well, I wanna know what you have to ask me.”

Ronan grinned, razor-sharp. “Fine.”

Adam smirked, lopsided. “Fine.”

“I want to get married,” Ronan said, at the same time that Adam said, “I’ll move in with you.”

A pause stretched out, shocked and dangerous. Adam blinked at Ronan, slow and processing. “ _ What _ ?” he asked.

“I--you want to move in with me?” said Ronan.

“Jesus!” Adam threw his hands up in the air, his composure slipping enough for Ronan to glimpse the expressions lying behind it. Maybe fear, maybe shock, maybe disgust, dancing across his mouth and through his eyes too fast for Ronan to identify any of them. “You want to get  _ married _ ? What the hell, Ronan? What are you  _ thinking _ ?”

“I don’t know!” Ronan gasped. It was suddenly very hard to breathe. 

_ I messed up I messed up I messed up _

“I just--I know it’s crazy, I  _ know _ , but I love you, and I’ve been thinking about this for weeks now, and it’s just seemed right the entire time. You’re it for me, Adam. I have never--I’ll never feel this way about anybody else. I know that. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my pathetic, shitty existence, and I can’t bear the thought of ever not being with you. So, yeah, if you feel any of that, too, I think we should get married. Does that freak you out?”

Inches away, close enough that Ronan could smell his soap and hear his uneven breaths, Adam said, “No. And yes.”

Ronan’s heart sank. He imagined that his tombstone would read _ Once again, Ronan Lynch has fucked up.  _ “Yes?”

Adam’s eyebrows shot up, and he reached to grasp Ronan’s hands in his, a shocked smile playing at his mouth. “I meant  _ yes _ , I’ll marry you,” he said. “Of course I will. Even if that was the weirdest proposal in the world and we had a huge fight, I--you’re it for me, too. And I guess if we’re going to be engaged now, it couldn’t hurt for me to move in.”

“I don’t give a shit about that,” said Ronan, and broke into an unrestrained, childish grin, the kind that hurt his face and lifted his chest and gave him back twenty years of his life in a single moment. “I mean, you can move in whenever, but you just said you would  _ marry _ me! We’re getting married, Adam!” He pulled Adam toward him and started in on a humiliating attempt at a dance, all flailing arms and awkwardly stomping feet, and then he began whooping. This was the feeling he had when he was in his car, driving twenty or forty or eighty miles over the speed limit. This was the feeling he had when he chased Matthew around the yard at the Barns with a garden hose, threatening to soak him. This was the feeling he had when he was with Adam.

“I have neighbors,” Adam protested, but his laugh canceled out any effect of the words. “They’re going to file a noise complaint if you keep screaming.”

Ronan stopped their movement, but he was still beaming, brighter than Adam had ever seen him. Brighter than anyone ever had. “I won’t be the one screaming tonight,” he said, winking in an unattractive but endearing way. 

“Ronan!” Adam laughed again, but swatted at his arm regardless; someone had to try and keep control of his inappropriately timed jokes. “We just got engaged!”

“What’s your point? If anything, this means it’s time to  _ celebrate _ !”

“Shouldn’t we call Gansey and Blue, let them know? What about Matthew? This is kind of a big deal.”

Ronan smirked, and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to Adam’s lips, and Adam knew that he was done for. “We’ll tell them tomorrow,” he said, and started leading the way to the bedroom.

  
  


Gansey woke up to freezing feet and a strange feeling about Ronan.

He slid on his wireframes and creaked his way out of bed, trying to be as silent as possible; his insomnia kept him awake most nights, and though Blue insisted that it didn’t bother her to stay up with him, he couldn’t bear interrupting her rest. He made his way to the kitchen/bathroom/laundry and opened the fridge to look for snacks, but he should have known better; a half-eaten yogurt container (Blue’s), an energy drink (Ronan’s), and a fresh box of blueberries (Adam’s) were the only things inside. He opted for a mint leaf instead, relishing the familiar tingling sensation on his tongue, and turned to go back toward the bed.

Blue was sitting up on the end of it, hair wild and frizzy from sleep, eyes puffy and red-rimmed, but she smiled at him as they made eye contact. “Hey,” she greeted, voice raspy. 

Gansey got her a glass of water and folded himself back in bed next to her. “Hey,” he said, already feeling more relaxed. “Sorry I woke you.”

Blue shrugged, smiling in the almost-darkness of the room. “I was barely sleeping,” she said. “I’d much rather talk to you, anyway.”

It was times like these when Gansey thought his heart might burst with affection, and also that he was the luckiest person alive.

“Do you think Ronan and Adam talked?” he asked. It had been plaguing him ever since Ronan had left earlier that day; as much as he tried to tell himself it was none of his business, what happened to his friends was one of Gansey's top concerns in life. He needed to know that they were all safe and well and happy, or he couldn't be any of those things, either.

Blue scoffed and turned to more fully face him, absentmindedly tracing her fingers over the veins on top of his hand. She knew his worries, and she understood them, and she knew how to ease his mind better than anybody. Acting like everything was normal was the most effective thing she ever did. “I’d say they’re having the hottest make-up sex ever right about now,” she told him. “I’m sure we’ll find out tomorrow.”

“You’re right,” said Gansey. “And smart. And tired, by the looks of it. You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not--” Blue started, and yawned hugely, effectively shutting down any argument she tried to make. She sighed and leaned against Gansey’s shoulder, and he could already feel her drifting back to sleep. “Are you sure you’re okay by yourself?”

“I’m not by myself,” he replied, running his fingers through her hair. “I’ve got you, and you make me the happiest man in the world.”

Any other night, that statement might have been true, but that night, Gansey was wrong. That night, Ronan Lynch was the happiest man in the world, and Adam Parrish was just beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took 9000 years to post! I've been very swamped and very cursed with writer's block, so if this isn't my great masterpiece, I apologize. Leave kudos or comments if you enjoyed or if you want me to write more pynch/trc in the future!


End file.
